Concordia in Tempestas
by CharmiaArkenstone
Summary: A revised/re-created 'Harmony and Thunder'. Nine clans of mortals live among the Aesir in reward for faith and sacrifice. Years later, tradition and convention crumble when two impossible lovers come together. In the midst of their own battles, they find themselves in a war for their hearts, where defeat is not an option. Thor/OC. Hints of Loki/OC. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1: From Times Long Gone

**Greetings to all!**

**This is a revised/re-created version of Harmony and Thunder, but it's not necessary for you to have read the original, though of course you are welcome to.**

**Loosely translated, the title means 'Harmony in the Storm' from Latin.**

**This version will have parts added, expanded, altered or thrown out altogether. If you have read the original, or even if you haven't, ideas about the plot are always welcome, and if there is anything you think should be left out or included then let me know! Your input will be highly valued :)**

**Please enjoy, R&R!**

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><p>In times long gone, before the Aesir had fallen into myth and legend alone, those most faithful to their gods were rewarded for the sacrifices they had made.<p>

Humankind had learnt that they were not alone, and became fearful towards the unknown and their own sudden insignificance. By the cruel hand of fate, the race of mortals were still in their infancy, fragile and ignorant. An easy target for hostile powers that lay within the Nine Realms. Their courage and spirits were not enough to protect them, their developing minds not yet ready to balance their weaknesses. In the eyes of the cosmos, humanity was all but defenceless.

In times all but forgotten, before the mortals had truly understood how helpless they were, an army of ice and cold descended upon them.

The fools, courageous without wisdom, charged into the fray. Annihilated within minutes, their single success was allowing the brave and wise a little precious time to rally their god-fearing kin to a place of natural defence, a waiting miracle from the beginning of Midgard's creation out of Ymir's body. But nothing of Midgard could stop the oncoming onslaught of the blue-skinned, red-eyed monsters. Mortal weapons could not save them; swords and axes couldn't pierce the skin, arrows bounced off, walls tumbled like they were piles of dried leaves. In a final struggle, a final call to rally, a final charge, every man, woman and child held a prayer to their lips.

And in times never recalled, before humanity was forced into the surrendering silence of death, the gods above answered. An army of Asgard, led by Odin the All Father, who had partaken in the creation of Midgard and the first mortals, crossed the Bifrost. At his sides were his sons, Thor and Loki. Thunderer and Trickster. Landing upon Midgard's soil, they stood strong between the creatures of ice that they knew to be from the frozen waste of Jotenheim, and the last survivors, who had grouped together instinctively. Loki, a master of sorcery, shrouded the Midgardians in thick mist so they were hidden from the battle but could still faintly see what lay beyond, while Thor, strongest of all Asgardians, led the charge alongside his father.

From their safety, the mortals watched as their gods fought and fell for them, and found that they could not simply stand by. Men, skilled in battle, stormed through the mist, taking hold of weapons from fallen Asgardians; women, skilled in healing, followed bravely with eyes like hawks, searching for those who had not lost the final battle. When the gods saw such displays of courage, kindness and gallantry, they decided, once the battle was won, to offer sanctuary for those exceptional mortals and their families in the realm eternal, Asgard.

Among the many families, nine came from what could be called the aristocracy; each of those families was given to a single patron god or goddess, by choice of the gods. To symbolize the alliance forged that day, the mortals would pay utmost devotion to their patron deity above all others, and in return, their deity would protect them. The patron deities then chose from the remaining families, who had made up the common people, selecting a handful each to serve and live alongside their chosen family from the aristocracy.

Nine halls, nine family crypts and nine manor houses were erected around the golden palace, and nine segments of land were allocated in the nearby countryside for each of the collected groups of families. That way, they could travel between the city and country however they wished. A common trend arose to have children born in the country and have them take up residence near the palace for their educations, whatever they might be. They saw no fit reason to ever leave Asgard as their home.

And so the world of mortals may have forgotten them, but they never forgot their Midgard.

Down the generations, the mortals dedicated years of their youth educating themselves on their history and how Midgard was changing through time while they watched from afar. The close connection to their homeland was what kept them from fully integrating with the Asgardians. And as the years passed, over centuries, the Asgardian mortals became more alike and unlike their native people – the skills and attributes attached to each family gradually changed, they took Midgardian surnames, even creating forenames names of their own, they appealed to Midgardian morals and sentiments, their physiologies and abilities remained the same; however, each generation lived longer than the last, allowing greater wisdom and maturity, bringing about the term 'immortal mortals' with it.

The nine aristocratic families developed a closer link to their patron deity than the other families in the collective clan. Rather intelligently, in the halls built around the palace, a council chamber was added so that they could essentially have meetings with their god or goddess with matters such as marriages, births and deaths, or any other matter that concerned them. For while the mortals had been granted reward and sanctuary, they were not equal to the Asgardians and any disobedience was dealt with brutally. It was in the best interest that a harmonious relationship was kept between the Midgardians and Asgardians. Side by side with the council chambers, a court for each clan of families was always available in the halls, and the patron would take part in the most important cases personally. A further tradition that evolved was that when a son or daughter reached the age of sixteen, they were formerly introduced to their patron god and could take part in council meetings or in court cases if they so wished, and were eligible for marriage.

It did not really matter that the families no longer matched with their god or goddess, maybe suiting another deity or deities, because the two had become truly devoted to each other and breaking that bond was not an option.

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><p>A millennia had passed.<p>

Two fourteen year olds, twins, sat wrapped in each other's arms, tears trickling silently down their cheeks. Being twins, they had the same red chestnut hair, deep rich brown eyes, short heights and delicate, lithe builds, and it was their sexes that set them distinctly apart. As children, only a tiny handful of people could tell them apart. Everything was noisier in the manor house than in the country, and they could hear muffled voices and footsteps in the other rooms. When they had travelled together from the peaceful countryside to visit their mother, nothing happened like they thought it would. It was their mother they took after, especially the girl, in both body and soul.

When they saw her, she didn't look like either of them.

It almost made them grateful that their brothers and sisters were still being kept in the country, that they didn't see their mother like that. Her weak words had frightened them, soft and sad. Too much like a prayer. Too much like a farewell.

Then, the physician ushered them quickly from the room, and that was the last time Harmony and Kistain ever saw their mother. But it was what followed after that would scar their minds forever. Hours later, they had not moved from the embrace they had fallen into, not noticing that three bodies were taken from the manor instead of just one.

A year before, it had been their mother's cousin, and now her. The dice had yet to be rolled in deciding who was next.

Eventually, the twins climbed into a single bed in the large room intended for all the brothers and sisters. Eyes sore and heads aching, Harmony and Kistain settled themselves, sniffing as they made themselves comfortable. Snuggling down, Harmony buried her face in her brother's chest, his warm arms wrapping around her tightly, and she gripped his shirt collar, clinging to him like she was afraid he would slip away from her as well. Another burst of tears flooded her tired eyes, catching her off guard and her lips trembled violently under the pressure of keeping them sealed.

Time became lost to them. The stars were high in the heavens before merciful sleep clouded their memories and nursed them into blissful silence, still wrapped tight in each other.

The following day, Harmony and Kistain's brothers and sisters travelled to the city of Asgard, accompanied by their uncle, brother of their mother from the country. The twins had had to bind themselves with iron restraint when they stood with their siblings to be told, officially, that their mother had passed on. All seven children had been so close together, completely innocent and helpless, as they stood before their father and the physician that had treated their mother. Harmony found herself envious of her sisters, Clerna and Rose, who at the ages of three and one, had not yet come to understand the concept of death fully; Rose could not even stand and played with Harmony's hair and clothes as she had held her.

As they were told, Harmony looked to her youngest brother, Colba, and wondered if even he, at the age of five, fully understood what was meant when they said their mother had passed on, but it was certain that Charmia and Arro knew full well. By the age of twelve, and even nine, there was no innocence left in death.

Kistain kept a firm hand on Harmony's back the whole time, resting the other on Colba's shoulder, who stood in front of him, more than small enough to fit under his chin. After they had been told, they were sent to the nursery chamber where they all slept when they stayed in the manor house, the largest section of which was dedicated to their family, the Lockeharts.

They had always been, since the beginning, the largest of the nine families, so were given the largest manor house to share with the other families in their clan.

Clerna, innocent but intuitive, knew there was something desperately wrong but could not understand what. And it was not until Harmony explained it to her, fighting tears of her own through gritted teeth and a locked jaw, that Clerna finally understood. The little girl burst in tears, crying out for her mother. Harmony gripped her tightly, her resolve crumbling into broken sobs, which then infected Rose so Kistain had to nurse and comfort her back to quiet. Not a single eye was dry that day.

By the night, the children had no more to spill, and they went to bed in pairs, aside from Rose who was tucked peacefully in her cot. None of them could bear to be by themselves. Clerna buried herself in Charmia's arms, Arro and Colba snuggled close together, and Harmony and Kistain held each other so that every inch of their bodies were touching. It was the only consolation that they could find, knowing they weren't alone. They might have been lost, but not alone, never alone.

A week later, they held the funeral. The entire Lockehart family attended along with families and friends of the clan, and of course their patron god. The body of their mother was buried in the family crypt, but all her possessions – that had not been left to family or friends – were nestled lovingly into a beautifully crafted longboat to sail over the edge of Asgard.

Dressed in respectful black, the seven Lockehart children stood together as if being painted, and while some of the younger ones wept, Harmony's face had become set like stone. The cold exterior had forged itself day after day as she became increasingly afraid that if she opened herself up again, she would never be able to stop. The water lapped near their feet, and the temptation to walk forward and tread the waves was almost too much. Their father, their patron, and close relatives of their mother stood formerly on raised ground at the back, as if watching over the entire occasion.

The boat was pushed gently away, the current embracing it to lull it towards the waterfall. Harmony felt herself shaking, breaking apart from the very inside, her heart throbbing with pain. None of her mother's things would have been sent away, if Harmony had had her way. She wouldn't have let them be taken. Then, when the boat was out far enough, their uncle Arnbjorn, lifted his bow and fired a flaming arrow. It sailed through the air like a shooting star and, upon piercing the wood, the boat erupted into spectacular flames of orange, red and yellow. Harmony's breath hitched in her throat.

A tall, silent figure drew up alongside them, standing a couple of metres away, and he watched the flames with an expression like ice. Clad in his armour, his long emerald cape billowed gently behind him. Turning her head by a fraction, Harmony recognised him. Strangely, especially given who he was, he was a rather close friend of the Lockehart family, more specifically of their most recently deceased. He had known her long before her husband had, and long before she had birthed any children for another man. His solemn promise now lay in her legacy.

The boat reached the waterfall, and it was gone.

For a moment, Harmony lost her will power and broke forward a step, and the chill of the water around her ankles shocked her back to reality. Her mouth opened. No sound came out.

The tall figure looked to the girl, thinking of how, by a twist of fortune, she could have been his own.

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><p><strong>Please let me know what you think!<strong>

**All feedback is welcome (craved heavily ;)) aside from non-constructive criticism, and like I said, your input will be highly valued!**

**I know there is a lot of mystery and it is intended. If there is anything at all you don't understand then let me know and I can tell you if it's intended mystery or if I wasn't clear.**

**The more responses I get, the more quickly I will be able to whip up a new chapter. So, what did you think of: The attack on Midgard, the battle, the rewards of the Aesir to the mortals, the society created for/by the mortals in Asgard, the patron gods, the death of Harmony's mother, the introduction to the Lockehart family, and who is the mysterious figure? And who do you think is the Lockehart's patron deity?**

**You're all amazing, love and hugs! xxx**


	2. Chapter 2: The Patron and the Maiden

**Thank you for reading! Please review, your input is highly valued!**

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><p><em>Two years later<em>

Standing before a long mirror, Harmony straightened out the skirts of the pale blue dress she was clad in. She hadn't grown much in the last two years, barely at all, and in some ways the longer length of her chestnut hair made her seem even shorter. Things were a little more cramped in the manner house with the whole family but it was easier on them there, they were more connected to everything.

Harmony could not tell it herself, seeing her own face every day, but her features had matured a little and she was told more and more frequently that she was the image of her mother. She thought about her often. Still haunted, Harmony consoled herself by knowing her mother would have wanted her to be happy and live to the full.

Three days before, she and Kistain had turned sixteen. By tradition, the new adult family members were introduced to their patron god. They would spend a day together to become acquainted. But in the case of twins, the eldest would spend their birthday with their patron, the youngest a few days later. Being the younger of the two, Harmony had eagerly waited until her nerves had been frazzled by excitement and anxiety. She wanted to look perfect, to be perfect.

Her lessons as a lady must had to be remembered. A good impression was vital, or shame would be brought upon her and her side of the family. Since she was fourteen, the stepping stones across her river of life had been pulled under, but for some reason this day felt like they were being pulled up to the surface again, a new pathway forward for her somehow. Since then, she hadn't let herself hope for anything more than tiny little things like a new dress or the chance to visit the country house.

Today, at last, was her day.

Harmony wove a few white flowers into her mass of chestnut curls, fingers adept after such a long time doing the same for her younger sisters whenever they asked. Adjusting her sleeves, she checked her appearance a final time before carrying herself with all the trained graces of a young lady to the living room to wait until she was summoned. Finding that she was alone, Harmony relaxed her posture with a breath of relief, then absentmindedly wound up the ornate music box on the table behind one of the long sofas. The twinkling music filled the room delicately, the sound of a childhood.

Not able to bring herself to sit down, Harmony went to the window, peering closely like a watchman, as though she might see her patron coming up to the house, despite knowing they'd arrived before she'd even dressed herself. From that window, the young woman could see people on the streets, oblivious to her and her day. Not that it mattered though. It was satisfying enough to look at as many people and know they'd had a life full of experiences Harmony might not even be able to imagine.

Watching them distracted her from the quiet she was unused to, and the knee-shaking nerves that had addled her for days. Someone from the street caught her eye, causing her to quickly look away shyly, not wishing them to think she had been rudely staring. A knock came at the drawing room door, startling the maiden, who instantly knew who it was. Eased with confidence, Harmony's cousin, Ygra pushed open the door with her palm so that it swung back on its hinges.

"They're ready for you," she said in her naturally husky voice.

Ygra kept the door open as Harmony walked from the room, and followed at the younger woman's flank on their way to the council chamber. They shared the signature red chestnut hair that embodied the true Lockehart bloodline. But while Ygra was fierce and tough, Harmony inherited the opposite, a quiet strength that lay in a humble and tender heart.

It took considerable effort to keep herself steady as she made her way to the council chambers. The impression she wanted to give was that she was pleasant, light-hearted and charming, instead of a tiny mouse who'd been caught in the eyes of a cat. She could not let her nerves ruin it. Some found it endearing when one was a little shy and timid, especially in a mortal – she hoped her patron may have been one of those people – and she did not wish to spend countless effort on hiding her shyness, who she was, but nor did she want it to overtake her, making her awkward and clumsy.

On approaching the chamber doors, Ygra overtook the young doe to rap her knuckles on the door. Harmony drew in a deep breath to subdue her anxieties, hoping she had a convincing calm, light face worn in place. Seemingly by themselves, the twin doors opened slowly. Harmony could have sworn her knees were shaking under her skirts. She stepped into the room alone, gazing upon her patron god truly in person for the first time.

Three of her closest official family members sat at the council table – her father, her mother's brother, Arnbjorn, and her mother's older sister, Kathryn. Compared to the god sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, they almost looked like polite children waiting for their supper. And it was all Harmony's effort not to gasp in awe at the god before her.

He was enormous, a giant of a man. Even sitting, he towered above the mortals at the table, dominating the room with his intimidating broad structure. But his eyes and smile were sincere, if not unnerving at the same time.

Harmony's father, Halvar, was the first to rise from his seat, an affectionate smile on his face as he came forward and embraced his eldest daughter. Harmony returned the embrace in the most lady-like way that she could possibly manage. She heard the unmistakable steps of her patron as he too rose to greet his newest mortal for the first time. As her father pulled away, Harmony had to steel herself from flinching at the immense sight of the god, now so close, and did her best to maintain her gentle, genuine smile.

Harmony bowed in a perfect curtsy, "Your grace," her voice was too breathless to her own ears.

Her eyes flickered up to her patron as she straightened her legs. The urge to nervously fiddle with her skirts was frustrating, awakening an impatient tingle in her fingers.

"Your reputation precedes you," the god told her, voice deep and powerful like the thunder he wielded.

The comment was followed by his own rich chuckle as a worried blush erupted in Harmony's cheeks. She had a reputation already?

"You are indeed your mother's double," he explained, and then extended his arm to take hold of her delicate hand and brush his lips against her knuckles.

Harmony looked deep into his sapphire eyes for just a moment before her aunt Kathryn interrupted, "Shall we proceed?" she asked with a smile, similar to Harmony's.

Upon arriving, the sight of a goblet upon the table had not gone unmissed, nor the pommel of the dagger. As well as spending the day with the family patron, the newest adult family member and the god would take an oath and become bound together.

Kathryn cupped the goblet in both her hands and came to stand adjacent to them both, Arnbjorn at her flank, while Halvar went to retrieve the blade, and Harmony stood nearly shaking. Don't let the fear show, she told herself. To the eyes of mortals, she seemed calm enough, but the god, who knew every single tell-tale sign of fear, and fear in concealment, knew just how frightened she really was. He wouldn't have judged her badly for showing it, she was such a little, fragile-looking young woman, though he gave her credit for having enough discipline to hide it.

Halvar stood the other side, opposite Kathryn with the ceremonial dagger; it was crafted to have a different metal for each of the edges, one immensely stronger than the other. The god offered his large hand without a word. Halvar spun the dagger so the right side of the blade lay against the Asgardian's flesh for a moment before slicing a shallow wound in the centre of his palm. Harmony watched in amazement as the god showed no signs of pain or even discomfort, like he'd not even felt it. Kathryn extended the goblet, which Harmony saw contained clear liquid that would have been easily mistaken for water, and Halvar tapped on the blade, coaxing a few drops of the god's blood to fall into the liquid, before it disappeared without a trace.

"Give me your hand, darling," Halvar said to his daughter, "This will only hurt a bit."

Harmony bit her lip without thinking, lifting her small hand. She was mildly comforted as her father's familiar hand cupped hers, turning the blade over his other hand. The slice was quick and shallow, still managing to elicit a small gasping hiss from the young mortal. The wound's burn lingered. A few drops of her blood fell and vanished in the goblet.

Kathryn offered the goblet to the god. He grasped it in one immense hand and took a generous sip before offering it to the mortal opposite him. With both hands, Harmony cupped the significantly heavy object and brought it to her lips, nervous and self-conscious as she swallowed a mouthful of the tasteless solution. Her father took the goblet from her hands, and her patron held up his palm. Swallowing again, Harmony tried to wet her throat before she spoke, raising her own hand to press her palm against the god's, their wounds meeting. He utterly dwarfed her in comparison.

"I," she began softly, "Harmonia Arianna Lockehart, offer myself to my patron; to obey, honour and serve from now until my final breath. I shall always be loyal and devoted, and accept any consequences if I should forsake my promise."

"I," the god rumbled, "Thor Odinson, bestow my favour upon you; to protect, guide, and rule from now until my final breath. I shall be fair and just, and honour you in return. May I fail to grip Mjolnir should I forsake my promise."

And it was done.

A strange shiver had run over Harmony's body and left behind a strange tingling sensation, but it was nothing unpleasant. She felt her father's arm wrap around her shoulder and a kiss in her temple. Arnbjorn was suddenly in front of her with a wrap of soft looking fabric to bind her bleeding hand with. And as she was bandaged, Harmony glanced at her patron's palm, amazed to see the minor wound already healing by itself, if not a tad envious of the ability.

Arnbjorn tied the final knot. "Thank you," Harmony said quietly.

"Your mother would have been proud of you," he told her.

Her father and uncle drew away from her as Thor stepped forward, ready to begin his day with her. Like a gentleman, he offered his arm and Harmony slipped her hand through, bringing it to gently rest on his forearm. They left the room with proud smiles behind them.

"Where do you wish to spend the day?" Thor asked her, momentarily catching her off guard by directly addressing her.

"Oh," Harmony's words stumbled over each other in the back of her throat. She swallowed and tried again, "Maybe somewhere quieter?"

"Perhaps the gardens?" her patron suggested.

With a bright smile, Harmony nodded eagerly. All her life she'd had a certain love of nature, a desire to be near to it as much as she could. She and Kistain had used to disappear for hours exploring the forests and country surrounding their rural home, and it was something they both looked back on nostalgically. Thor led her down the pathway that would take them most quickly to the extravagant palace gardens. The streets were busy, bustling with people of all kinds, and Harmony felt her belly tighten with tiny pangs of anxiety in the crowded scene. She kept herself close to Thor's side, curling her delicate fingers around his sleeve and arm a bit more, letting him walk a little in front of her so he could carve the way for them.

He felt the little young woman draw nearer to him. It pleased him; she seemed to trust him enough to keep her safe and saw him as the figure of protection he had sworn to be for her. It was obvious enough why she had wanted to spend their time in a more secluded environment. The people in the streets cleared way for their future king, so the pair were not held up by the crowds.

"I brought your mother here when she was your age," Thor told Harmony as they stepped into the lavish gardens. "I remember it well. She was very much like you are now."

"She never told me," Harmony replied quietly. They walked slowly, leisurely, now that there was no rush and they were all but alone. "But it seems like something she would have liked," the girl added sadly.

"She was a remarkable woman. It was cruel for her to be taken so soon from you all, you must miss her," there was an unmistakably soothing tone in the god's voice, a pillar to fall back against, to be caught by.

Harmony took a deep breath, recollecting herself before speaking, "Yes, all the time. I try not to think of it too much though; I fear what would happen if I did."

"You are a brave young woman," Thor complimented, coaxing a bashful smile from her, "Very few would have taken the responsibilities that you have."

"I don't feel brave much of the time," Harmony admitted with a shrug.

Part of her was glad for the extensive height difference between them, giving her a perfect excuse to keep her eyes away from his avid gaze. Speaking of such things caught her off her guard. She rarely opened up about it, it frightened her what she might find in the unvisited parts of her mind. Besides most of her time was spent doing, not thinking. What peace she seldom received was never long-lasting. And never once had she felt as though she was in control or brave enough to take on anything that came her; such delusions of fearlessness and boldness were nothing but pointless.

"Does your mother's memory haunt you?" Thor asked her.

With a small nod, she answered, "Yes. It is made worse with the dreams I have. They bring everything back all over again."

"Have you not tried a sleeping draught?"

"It always slips my mind. When I wake, there is always something else that needs doing. I suppose I should though," she paused, gathering the courage to pry further about her mother's ghost, "Did you know her well?"

"Aye, I did, rather well," Thor answered, "But Loki knew her far better than I did, your mother was dear to him as well as I. She possessed an uncommonly kind and gentle heart."

Harmony didn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. A sense of closeness to her mother's memory surrounded her, as if she were standing right behind them, in the corner of her eye. "What was she like before she started a family?" she inquired with newfound curiosity.

"Alas, Loki would have far more stories to tell but I remember she was a fine bard, having in her possession one of the very few violins from Midgard. She danced and sung, and had talent with the bow," Thor listed, wracking through his memories, "She had a certain way with animals, particularly horses. Do you ride yourself?"

"Not if I can help it," Harmony said.

Taken aback, Thor turned to look down at her intently, eyebrows raised, "And why is that?"

"It's been insisted for a long time that I ride 'like a lady'," Harmony admitted with slight worry she might offend what he thought of the tradition.

But, to her relief, the huge god chuckled heartily, and when she remained silent, he prompted her, "Continue."

"I used to ride normally – like a man usually rides – but my aunt Kathryn insisted I learn to ride side-saddle. She was far more intent than my mother that I become a proper lady. I've not ridden properly in years," Harmony explained.

A sly gleam flickered across Thor's eyes like a tiny streak of lightning, "What if you could ride the way you used to?"

…

Two of Asgard's finest steeds galloped freely down the country road, hooves kicking up chunks of grass and dirt, snorting breaths with each lurch forward. The wind whooshed past them, an ongoing shouting whisper.

With her legs parted over the horse's wide back, the skirts of her dress hitched up, Harmony almost felt like her brother, shifting her weight back through her hips, seating her deep in the saddle. More like a passenger than a rider, she held the reins not too firmly, trusting the horse with the eased contact. Her small body was jolted with every bound, each breath snatched gaspingly.

From his significantly larger mount, Thor watched the astounded maiden, deciding that even riding like a man she looked like one of the sweetest young ladies he'd ever seen. Her lips were parted in an endearingly innocent way, panting each breath in time with their galloping strides. He could see the excitement and blissful sense of freedom on her flushed face, but also a strange sort of determination at the same time.

It seemed that she knew where she wanted to go, so Thor allowed her to urge her horse in front of his, while he became increasingly interested by this mortal's character, remembering her mother in the same way. Shy and delicate, with a whispering strength within, that drove her to make herself and others happy, even if it did mean defying convention that would limit her, however small.

When the horse below started to rein in their pace, Harmony gradually straightened her back, not willing to push the animal beyond its want. With the rush of wind no longer able to cool her, her face grew hot and her breaths laboured for a few moments. "I wish I could that whenever I wanted," Harmony panted, running a hand over her tangled chestnut curls.

Thor chuckled heartily, bringing his far larger horse to a slower pace, overtaking her in the process. He steered the horse around, almost circling Harmony as he came round to join her side again, "I feel the same as I lead my warriors into battle."

The smile on Harmony's face dropped. She hadn't even thought about that sort of thing, it'd never occurred to her. Her patron was Asgard's greatest warrior, how could she forget? It was close to incomprehensible that this man, so charming, friendly and liberating, was Asgard's finest killer, a figure to be respected and immensely feared. Given her timid nature, Harmony couldn't deny her shyness and nervousness around him, but she had never once given a thought to how afraid she could be of him and that maybe she should have been frightened of him, not just nervous. But then, how could she fear someone who allowed her such freedom and spoke so kindly to her?

"Battle upsets you?" Thor asked, watching her face fall.

"Does it please you?" Harmony countered with uncharacteristic boldness.

"That is not what I asked," he replied sternly.

Looking down, Harmony muttered, "Yes."

"I find that ironic in a way. Your ancestors earned their place here because of their prowess and valour in battle, and now you shun the mere thought. Strange is it not?" his lips gave a small quirk, "Would you wish to defend those you love if they were in danger?"

"Yes, of course I would," Harmony said without a thought. She paused, "But I would never want to kill someone, even if I had to; I'm not even sure if I could."

"In what way?"

"I don't think I could ever bring myself to murder another living creature. Nor would I know how to do it," the mortal admitted, almost ashamed.

"Did you never pursue in your mother's footsteps and take up the bow?" Thor looked at her closely, reading her face carefully. He saw his question had struck a nerve.

"I just couldn't," Harmony whispered in a weakened voice, "Not after," she broke off. "I can barely look at her violin."

"It's all right," his voice was suddenly soft and honey-warm, and Harmony jerked her head to look up at him. "You still love your mother dearly, you miss her, but you cannot let her ghost hold you back forever."

Then in silence, they continued to ride until reaching the Lockehart country house. Upon being asked, Harmony pointed out which was her bedroom window and which was the nursery, and she knew the god was now trying to distract her. His consideration for a mere human confounded her.

On their horses still, Harmony and Thor leisurely covered the small estate, falling in and out of conversation. Thor heard Harmony's stomach rumble and looked around; he steered them towards an age old fruit tree, reached up and plucked the finest looking piece and handed it to her. A dash of colour spread across her cheeks as she took it gratefully and started nibbling innocently.

The afternoon passed on. Thor told her a number of stories that would please her, making her smile and laugh or be struck silent with awe. He looked at her reactions closely, learning her a little more with each one, finding that she truly was, in herself, harmony. Never had a name been quite so fitting.

And when the first streaks of pink and orange lined the azure sky, it was time to return to the city.

"Ready?" Thor's eyes glinted as they stepped onto the long road.

Harmony smiled eagerly, her horse beneath her growing impatient. In one breath she let go. The air was stolen from her lungs again. Her body bowed, arms giving. Dirt and dust was kicked up behind them, the thundering of hooves shuddering through the very earth. It was a feeling Harmony could never remember, and now one she would never forget. She relished in every second. At the sight of the city, she knew her excitement would soon be snuffed out like a flickering candle.

Once they'd reached the city and dismounted their horses, instead of leading Harmony straight home, Thor walked her back to the gardens and sat her down on a marble bench, sitting close beside her. He could almost hear her brow furrowing.

"There is something I want you to do for me," he said.

"My lord?" Harmony questioned, anxious.

"I told you earlier that you shouldn't let your mother's ghost hold you back. I want you to embrace the things you have in common with her, pursue them if that is what you wish but you must pursue something. You are more than a replacement mother for your family; there must be things you desire for yourself. There is one more among the dead, and it is not you."

* * *

><p><strong>Did we like? What did you think of Harmony grown up a little, the ritual, her relatives, the day with Thor?<strong>

**And are there any preferences/suggestions on what you'd like Thor's/Harmony's/any other character's personality to be like?**

**Your thoughts are always valued and craved!**

**Love and hugs xxx**


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